


A Day of Rest

by fire_is_my_happy_place



Series: TF2 prompts and drabbles [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, TF2 Secret Santa 2013, fluffy as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_is_my_happy_place/pseuds/fire_is_my_happy_place
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt for lightspeed: Tavish/Jane pairing set at Tavish's mansion, fluff without angst (or at least as much as I'm capable of), love-making. Sweet as a candy-store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day of Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lightspeed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/gifts).



It wasn’t, Jane decided, the sight of the mansion itself.  He paused in front of the heavy wooden door, its familiarly scuffed panels waiting for him to turn the knob and let himself in. His mouth dry, he looked at his hand on the doorknob as the autumn wind blew scarlet leaves against what he thought of as his casual clothes, khakis and a Hawaiian shirt. It wasn’t, Jane decided, that he wasn’t familiar with Tavish—memory fed him a quick flash of Tavish’s beautiful body pressed hotly against him. He couldn’t put his finger on it quite, the surge of emotions that had stopped him.

While he debated the cause, Tavish opened the door, pulling the knob from Jane’s hand. Tavish smiled ruefully, his eyes raking the faded, aqua blue shirt the fitful breeze had plastered to Jane’s finely molded torso. _So he wore it again_ , Tavish thought with a familiar mix of irritation and affection. _Wonder if he even thought about it or if he just pulled on his civvie clothes_. Wordlessly, Jane held out a bottle of twelve-year old Balvennie that trembled slightly as the man breathed.

Tavish’s eyes rolled up to Jane’s face before he spoke, surprised. “Yeh remembered, did yeh?”

Years ago, Tavish had mentioned how much he liked the brand, how much he regretted being unable to find it among the sparse liquor selection in the local small town liquor store. _And he remembered_ , Tavish though, reaching for the bottle gently, taking it and then Jane’s cold hand in his.

“Yeh barmy bastard,” he said. “Did yeh forget to put on a jacket?” Jane just shrugged as Tavish eyed the meticulously maintained 1955 Indian Scrambler motorcycle partially blocked by Jane’s shivering body. They had stopped making the parts years back, but with the Engineer’s help, Jane had been improvising repairs since then. _Thirty-odd miles in the autumn cold without a jacket_ , Tavish thought. _Tha man can remember to take care of tha bike but nae himself_. At least Jane had remembered to wear a hat, the absurdly curled deerstalker on his head completely failing to cover his wind-burned ears.

Tavish shook his head, then pulled the un-protesting Jane into the warmth of his house, the Balvennie sloshing gently in his other hand. Tavish’s hooked foot closed the front door, sightless with habit, and he drew Jane toward the fireplace in the living room. _Well_ , Tavish thought, _there is a traditional cure for an overly cold body_. Jane sat down on the couch near the fire with a thump, looking up at Tavish’s scolding expression.

“I was in a hurry,” Jane said apologetically, before turning eagerly toward the crackling flames. Tavish grunted in reply and padded barefoot to the kitchen, the cloth of his khakis whispering as he went. A pop and the cork escaped the bottle. Tavish pulled two small tumblers from a cabinet and poured his own neat, then flicked a few drops of water into Jane’s drink, swirling gently until he could smell the smoke and incense of the scotch. Juggling both tumblers into a calloused hand, he grabbed the open Balvennie with the other hand and returned to the living room, where Jane’s shivers had become more violent as he warmed enough to feel the difference between his skin and the warm air of the house.

Tavish almost swore, but instead handed Jane his tumbler and plunked down beside him, pressing his thigh and side to the man’s chill flesh. With a growl, he pulled Jane toward him, one-armed, and pressed a rough kiss to the prickly hair on the man’s scalp. After a moment, Jane huddled into him, slouching slightly. As Jane tried to get the tumbler to his lips, a few drops of Scotch missed his mouth, spreading dark flowers on the blue of his shirt.

With a grumble, Tavish put his tumbler down and wrapped both arms around Jane, who made an inarticulate noise as Tavish’s arms pushed the breath from him.

“All right, all right, Tavish,” Jane grumbled. “I’m sorry. I should’ve grabbed a jacket.”

“Damn right yeh should‘ve,” Tavish growled. “Yeh don’t have respawn right now, yeh daft git.”

Tavish looked down and realized Jane was grinning crookedly at him. “You know, Tav, it’s downright adorable when you mother-hen me.”

Tavish huffed, then hugged the man until he heard the breath chuff out of him again. Jane’s grin opened into something that was nearly laughter, pleasure crinkling the skin next to his eyes. “And you know I like it when you hold me down.”

Tavish’s mouth opened to say something barbed, but instead he kissed Jane, irate warmth and the pleasure of touching Jane spreading its fingers through him the way it always did. Jane’s tongue carried the smoky sting of the Scotch and a sea of memories—of stolen moments in corners of the base and a breathless night in Tavish’s room, of other days spent here, of that same smug, crooked grin and the mischief in Jane’s smile. Jane broke away to eye Tavish’s scotch meaningfully.

“You going to neglect your poor scotch? I’ll take it.”

 _Is it tha irritation_ , Tavish thought, and reached for his scotch. _Something about tha man drives me mad_. The scotch pricked his tongue with peat and soothed it with vanilla, warmth running down him like caressing fingers. Jane watched, satisfied, as Tavish’s eye closed momentarily. He’d never really had a taste for the stuff before Tavish, but the man’s enthusiasm for scotch had been contagious, along with Tavish’s vital enjoyment of his senses, of the sensual world.

When Tavish opened his eye again, Jane watched his pupil dilate and shrink again in the warm coffee of his iris. “Well, Tav, did I do good?”

Tavish stared at Jane for a moment, watching his cocky self-assurance begin to wither with doubt before gently and firmly putting his tumbler down with a click. Jane eyed it and put his own down just in time for Tavish to pounce him, flattening him on the couch.

Jane looked up at Tavish’s face, watching the expressions fly across it. _Why do I love to drive him mad_ , Jane thought. _What is it about frustrating the man?_

Tavish reached slowly for Jane’s hands and pinned them to the couch, feeling the tension drain out of Jane’s body where it lay between his thighs. The man smiled up at him, anticipatory and pleased with himself, an expression that made Tavish want to bend him over and spank him for being such a brat. Instead, Tavish kissed him again, lips tense and tongue hardened by the mounting tension between them. When Tavish drew back slightly, he nudged at Jane’s head with his cheek. Jane turned his head. “Yer such a brat,” Tavish murmured in his ear. “Why do I put up with yeh?”

Jane flexed slightly, pushing carefully against Tavish to get him to tighten his hands. “Because,” Jane said quietly, “you like it.”

“Ohhhhh.” Tavish let the word trail off into a gust of breath. The man drove him utterly mad. Utterly, passionately mad—no argument, no bout of fights, none of the mix of frustrations native to couples had managed to dim his feelings about the fool underneath him. Tavish cleared his throat, taking a moment to calm himself, then spoke. “Well, yeh seem ta be warm now.”

Jane rolled his hips, brushing himself against Tavish with a challenging look.

Tavish took a deep breath, reminding himself to be calm. “Right,” he said finally. “I’m going ta get up, and yer going ta march yer ass to the bedroom.” Tavish’s eye narrowed. “And then, Jane meh laddy-love, we’re going ta do something about yeh.”

Jane chuckled, rocking Tavish atop him as his belly rolled with laughter. Tavish stood and, helping Jane up, laid a hand on the back of Jane’s neck and marched him up the stairs that way, enjoying the feeling of Jane’s muscles moving under his hand as they climbed. In the bedroom, Tavish kicked the door shut with a bang, eyes still on Jane, who turned and with a grin, started to slowly flick the buttons on his terrible Hawaiian shirt though their holes.

 _Shite_ , Tavish thought reverently as the meaty plane of Jane’s chest and stomach slowly emerged from his shirt. _Is tha man ever going ta stop drivin’ me mad?_

He let Jane finish undressing and stand, body beautiful as any marble statue despite its scars. When Jane finished, he nodded down at his own shirt and lifted his arms, letting Jane pull the thermal over his head and kneel to strip the khakis from him with surprising gentleness. Jane stayed kneeling, looking up at him, hands running gently along the outside of Tavish’s hips. As Tavish watched, Jane leaned forward to press a kiss against the tender skin of his thighs. Jane came up on his knees to press a line of those gentle kisses up the shallow curve of Tavish’s hip bone and then leaned forward, resting his cheek against Tavish’s hip. Tavish closed his eyes, the feverish warmth of Jane’s breath stirring both body and emotions.

They stayed like that for a moment, momentarily overwhelmed. Tavish reached down to cradle Jane’s exposed cheek and then raised his chin, pulling him up and into another kiss, itself maddeningly sweet. He walked backward, leading Jane to bed with his hands cupped around the man’s cheeks, still kissing him with the same soft warmth. Tavish broke the kiss by turning quickly, pushing Jane until the man fell on the bed with a surprised huff. Jane said nothing as Tavish walked over to the nightstand and opened it, pulling a fat plastic bottle of lube from the drawer.

Returning to stand, looking down at Jane, Tavish paused, waiting for something—for words, or gesture, or anything, waiting to see what Jane would do. Keeping eye contact, Jane raised his legs, pulling them into his chest and exposing himself.

Tavish made a sobbing grumble as he knelt, familiar intoxication running through him like champagne in his blood, tingling. With a click, the bottle opened. Tavish spilled a pool of lube into his hand, waiting for it to warm and watching an anticipatory flush sweep over Jane’s cheeks, his toes curling slightly. _What is it about tha man_ , Tavish thought. _Every time, that look, tha expression on his face_.

Jane watched the dark blush on Tavish’s face, the intent look and the way the man’s breath came high and shallow in anticipation. _It isn’t just the ache_ , Jane thought, his body prickling where it lay just within distance of the heat from Tavish’s skin. _It isn’t just what you do to me_.

Their eyes closed unconsciously as Tavish ran a slick finger over the tight, smooth skin of Jane’s ass, already loosening.

“Please,” Jane whispered, letting the word hiss into the still, warm air of the room.

Tavish wanted to have enough self-control to tease Jane, to be able to keep himself from easing a finger into the man, but it was beyond him not to feel the slick, fever-heat of Jane’s body around him, pulling at his finger. Jane gasped and wriggled, pulling himself closer to the edge of the bed and burying Tavish’s finger deeper.

Tavish’s free hand convulsively clutched the edge of the mattress, skin paling over his knuckles, his cock instantly and painfully hard. It was all he could do to wait, to try and patiently work Jane open. Jane moaned, begging long before his body was ready for more, for Tavish’s body in his. By the time Tavish could get three bundled fingers into the man, Jane was dry-sobbing with need, mouth open and wet, head tossing on the bed.

Tavish slicked himself and paused, hand around himself to guide his cock into Jane. He couldn’t resist waiting for just a moment, watching Jane gulping the air and become indignant, glaring down between his thighs at Tavish, who grinned at him.

“Are you completely mad,” Jane said, irritation roughening his already hoarse voice. “Are you trying to drive me mad?”

At that, Tavish glided the tip, just the first fraction of an inch into Jane to make him stop talking, to watch the irritation wash from his face and reoccur as he realized Tavish wasn’t moving.

“Say ‘please’ again, Jane,” Tavish growled. “Say it.”

Jane froze, looking at the mix of possessive passion on Tavish’s face, his mouth dry again. After a moment, he managed to stammer out the word please and arched up off the bed as Tavish slid into him, filling him with scalding heat and pressure. Tavish wrapped his hands around Jane’s hips to keep him still, letting Jane wrap his legs around Tavish’s hips and watching the muscle of Jane’s stomach leap and shift.

Tavish’s first stroke was gentle, barely moving to watch Jane’s fists drop to the sheets and knot in them. Jane’s eyes closed tightly, then eased with the rest of his body, relaxing into whatever Tavish cared to do to him.

“I cannae….” Tavish trailed off, goosebumps sweeping his body. _It was that moment_ , Tavish thought. That moment, the sight of Jane’s body loosening as the muscles of his ass clutched at Tavish, the way Jane melted into him as he moved, the way he accepted and needed Tavish. It’s more than that, Tavish realized. It’s every moment. “I….”

Jane’s eyes opened and he reached up, putting a finger on Tavish’s lips and stopping him. The expression on Tavish’s face, that mix of warmth and wonder, of open desolation and hope— _I can’t believe we’ve never said this to one another_ , Jane thought. “Love you,” Jane finished for him, voice gentle.

Surprising them both, Tavish’s eye was the first to prickle and spill. Jane came up on his elbows as Tavish leaned forward, shifting inside Jane and gasping, then kissing him. Jane broke the kiss first, shifting as his head came back. Tavish kissed the straining line of Jane’s neck and thrust forward, rocking Jane on the bed with a wet slap. Jane’s answering moan was obscenely loud, and with a pleased, watery chuckle, Tavish tightened his fingers on Jane’s hips and thrust again, feeling the man’s thighs harden around him. Jane’s elbows flew out from under him and his hands clutched at Tavish’s forearms, muscles of his ass fluttering around Tavish.

With a grunt, Tavish fucked him harder, feeling the tight muscle loosen slightly, still fluttering as Jane cried out, begging, pleading, babbling, his head turning back and forth. _Oh laird_ , Tavish thought, panting, _I cannae last if he keeps doing that_. Tavish gritted his teeth, tension rising sweet in him.

Jane forced himself up on his elbows, eyes glassy and glazed. Tavish leaned forward again, capturing Jane’s lips, and reached for his cock. Jane yelled into Tavish’s mouth and came, spattering them both, and fell backward onto the bed. Tavish came with his own yell second later, shaking.

“I love yeh,” he panted, leaning on his arms, still inside Jane.

Jane, grinning mischievously, writhed before answering to watch the momentarily alarm cross Tavish’s face as his oversensitive cock was stroked. “I love you, too,” Jane said. With a startled realization, he added, “have since the first time. Remember that shed at Sawmill.”

Tavish chuckled faintly. “I wanted ta kill yeh, and then I wanted ta fuck yeh.”

“Me, too,” Jane said. “It’s been like that ever since.”

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack: Duets and More, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong


End file.
